A Golden Life Affair
by Solo's Girl
Summary: Sometimes the most deadly enemy we face is not the one can see or know from past encounters. An enemy we must fight with our very being to defeat. This story was based loosely on my own experience but certain circumstances made me feel like re-posting. With love I dedicate this tale to Robert Vaughn.


**A Golden Life Affair**

Written By: Solo's Girl

Napoleon sighed. His nostrils flared as the smell of sweat penetrated his olfactory sensors. The heat from their bodies began to steam in the cold air. He felt a distinct stinging between his thighs as he softly begged for more speed. His request was fulfilled. Solo felt the pump of adrenaline as the motion increased, faster and faster. He pressed his face against the soft neck and held tight. The smell of leather now overtook his senses. He held tight as he felt the moment approached.

He closed his eyes and felt like he was flying. Napoleon tightened his leg muscles and felt the sharp slap of leather across his backside. He sat up and smiled, panting for breath. His hand gently stroked the soft muscular neck. He leaned forward once more and planted a friendly kiss on the spot. He glanced back over his shoulder. Six feet tall if an inch he thought.

He reined the horse up and pulled him to a halt. Solo studied the fence. Well maybe it wasn't quite six feet but it was close. Once more he lavished the animal with affection, gently patting the strong neck. Solo rubbed his butt. It had been a long time since he had been riding and even longer since he took on a jump. But he felt exhilarated. He felt alive He sat tall in the English tack, but preferred the feel of a good western style saddle. More substance, he thought, a saddle you knew you were in.

He pulled the reins and turned his mount back towards the stable. Solo heeled the massive animal into a gallop. He watched the landscape fly past him. As he approached, he saw a familiar figure standing by the fence. A gust of cold air blew the blond hair back from the other man's face. Napoleon reined the animal up next to the fence. He smiled at his partner. Illya made an unenthusiastic attempt at applause.

"You're just jealous because you can't do it," Solo said as he slipped from the saddle.

Illya smiled to himself as he saw Solo cringe in pain. The rider leaned slightly forward and rubbed his legs.

"Can't do what?" Kuryakin said, brushing his hair back, "Try to break my neck or deliberately try to make myself sterile? Either one works you know."

Solo laughed. He brushed off his jacket and pants then kicked the mud from his boots on fence. Napoleon climbed up and straddled the top rail. He took another deep breath and shook off the pain.

The stable boy walked up and took the horse away. Illya pointed towards the animal.

"The poor things knees are wobbling," he said smiling.

Napoleon made a slight laugh and smiled.

"I don't think the doctor would approve of that, do you?" Illya asked, suddenly turning serious.

Napoleon frowned. Wasn't that the pot calling the kettle…? The man who had a reputation so bad that it resulted in his practically being banned from U.N.C.L.E. medical facilities in North America and Europe was telling him what a doctor would say. Illya looked at him. Solo shifted his weight on the fence. The Russian could tell the ride had exhausted his friend.

"I don't care if he would or not," Napoleon said, taking a deep breath, "After these last eight months, I needed that."

Solo reached up and unhooked the chin strap of his riding helmet. He started to take it off, but decided not to. He looked over at his blond counterpart. How he envied that thick crop of blond hair he had. Illya was watching him and turned to look out across the fields. He took a deep breath.

"Has it started to grow back?" the Russian asked, avoiding looking at Solo. Kuryakin fumbled with his hands.

"Slowly," Napoleon said with a heavy sigh.

He took the helmet off. His head was patched here and there with small sections of black hair. It was going to be a long time before it was all back. The radiation treatments had really done their job. Solo ran his hand over his head and put the helmet back on. He swung his legs over the front of the fence and slipped from the railing. Illya turned towards him

"How did you find out where I was?" Solo asked, "No one was supposed to know."

"Waverly. He wanted me to see if you were ready to come back to work yet," Illya said.

"I want to get back," Solo said, "This place is great, reminds me of my Grandfather' place when I was a kid, but I love the city. I miss, well, everything."

Illya knew what Napoleon missed the most. The only thing that made him truly happy, to walk down those steel grey halls of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters once more. For awhile the two men walked along in silence.

"It's funny," Napoleon said, "Everyday we do the same things over and over. We get up, eat, dress, go to work, and come home. It's almost mechanical. But you never realize how important those things are until you can't do them anymore. Something as simple as brushing your teeth suddenly becomes extremely significant."

Illya started to say something but the words caught in his throat. He simply shook his head in agreement. He put his hand on Solo's shoulder as they walked back towards the house.

Napoleon sat down on the porch swing to take his boots off. He hated to admit it, but Kuryakin was right. Where the ride had been fun and exciting it was still too soon for such nonsense as jumping fences. He found that he had become incredibly tired. The boots dropped to the floor and he took a deep breath, rubbing his hand across his eyes.

Just one short year ago he had been a strong, sturdy and vibrant young agent. He loved his life, his job and the countless women he encountered in his existence. He had a great partner to work with. No one could ask for more.

They had returned from an assignment in Brazil battered and bruised, nothing out of the ordinary for a field agent. But something was eating at the Russian. Changes he had noticed in his partner. He wasn't sure if they were even worth mentioning. Before he could say anything the doctor noticed his expression.

"Is something bothering you, Agent Kuryakin?" Doctor Gains asked.

"Napoleon," the Russian said.

"Agent Solo? He bothers everyone," the doctor said smiling, "Especially my nursing staff. What seems to be the problem?"

"Just little things I noticed on the trip. He seems to get tired very easily anymore, even doing simple things," Illya said, "Then there is the bruise. He clipped the doorframe at the hotel with his shoulder. Just in the short time it took him to take a shower and come back in the room to get his shirt, his entire shoulder was black and blue."

Doctor Gains studied the concerned look on his patients face. Illya finished buttoning his shirt and tucked it in. He brushed his hand thru his blond hair and looked at the doctor. The man was writing everything the Russian had told him onto his clipboard. Illya watched him pick up the phone.

"Yes..Do you still have Agent Solo there?" the doctor said, "Good. I want a full blood analysis done immediately."

"What's wrong with Napoleon?" Kuryakin said walking up to the doctor.

"May be nothing more than a slight Anemia," Gains said, "You're ready to go. Watch that right wrist. Any swelling starts come back and I'll give you something for it. For right now just put ice on it and wear a brace if you have to do any shooting."

That night, Napoleon and Illya were having a Friday nightcap at a bar near headquarters when Solo began to have trouble breathing. He seemed disoriented, unable to speak. Kuryakin watched as Solo tried to lift his glass, his hand trembling so bad he threw the liquid everywhere. The Russian saw a look of panic in his friends face.

Napoleon was rushed back to the infirmary at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. After a series of test, the doctor said they had found an "abnormality" in his spleen. He was rushed into surgery and afterward was subjected to heavy doses of Radiation, and countless blood transfusions. Once able to leave the hospital, Waverly had him sent to a farm in rural New York, away from work and worry. A wonderful, secluded place with wide open fields and fresh air. The only thing even closely related to U.N.C.L.E. was the farms owner, Mr. Waverly's cousin, Simon.

Napoleon opened his eyes and saw his partner sitting on the porch rail smiling.

"Go ahead and say it," Solo said, "Before you bust a gut."

"Say what? I told you so?" Kuryakin said trying to hide his smile, "Come on Napoleon. You know I'm not the type to gloat when I'm _right_ about something."

Solo laughed. It was a strong, hard laugh. The sound was wonderful to the Russian. Things had been very dull without Napoleon Solo.

 **Two months passed.**

The office was buzzing with news. Rumors mostly, but whatever it was, it was traveling at an alarming speed. Some took it as truth, others took a "believe it when I see it" approach. The main door opened and Illya walked into reception to get his badge. A strange hush fell over the hallways. Napoleon Solo was right behind him. He was still thin by comparison to his old self but improving. His hair had grown out a bit more. He now looked like he had an army crew cut. He smiled at the young girl behind the desk. She looked at him as a tear fell on her cheek. Illya smiled as he watched her pin the agent's badge on his jacket.

"Welcome back Agent Solo," Susan said, almost crying.

He smiled at her. The two men walked down the hallway. Others stopped and watched as Napoleon made his way thru the halls on U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. He felt a surge of energy shoot thru him. They stepped up to Mr. Waverly's office. Solo looked over at Illya and smiled.

"It's been a long time," Napoleon said.

He straightened his tie. Illya adjusted his jacket. The door opened and they walked in. Waverly turned around and looked at them.

He was taken aback by Solo's appearance, but you couldn't see it. Then Solo heard the voice he had missed.

"Ah, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, just on time as usual," the elder man said. He smiled at Solo.

Napoleon smiled. It was like he had never been gone. Waverly motioned for them to sit down. Their boss handed them two Intel folders. Everything was perfect.

And Napoleon would never take it for granted again.


End file.
